Frederick Jaeger
|history= Frederick Jager was never anyone special, just a kid with enough talent that he avoided outright mediocrity. Just smart enough to be considered above average, only just athletic enough to be a bench warmer on the track team, the kind of person you passed on the street and maybe murmured a hello, but couldn't remember what he looked like later or what he might have said in return. Upon graduating high school, and fulfilling his general education community college requirements, he began drifting. His family was comfortable, but they didn't have the money to send him to school. Frederick himself had no idea what to do with his life, and generally seemed to fear an inevitable future as an aimless youth. Here was no Lost Boy, or a kid that was a victim of the environment. Just a young man with no guiding light or mentorship to push him in the direction of something greater than himself. This, coupled with the need for acceptance, and to valuable to _SOMETHING_, led him to do a very stupid thing.%r%rHe joined a gang. It really was nothing special. The sort of Metropolis/middle class New York crust types that were playing at being hard to masquerade in place of their fragile egos and sense of entitlement (Interesting fact: the brain is not believed to be fully mature until the age of 25%). In perpetrating small scale robberies, breaking and entering, and petty vandalism, he had actually found a talent. Was he a fantastic criminal? No. That in itself was his greatest advantage, because while his colleagues got pinched, or something went not quite as planned, Frederick was completely and utterly beneath notice. He was 'that guy' or 'one of them'. Even as a low-level gangster, Frederick had perfected the art of being mundane to a subconscious art form. If things had stayed this way, he might have actually stayed a criminal....the life wasn't fantastic, but it gave the occasional thrill, and being Nobody Special actually worked for him for once. Unfortunately, things always change, and never stay the same. Meanwhile, in the domain of those who were actual, full-time, very serious criminals, an organization called Intergang decided to expand its minion pool. To do this, they issued a challenge to several crews, offering membership and patronage in exchange for one little job. It was one warehouse, how hard could it be? Frederick had his misgivings, but his partners jumped at the chance, thinking this was their ticket to the big time. Unfortunately, things did not go as planned. Intergang's true purposes were revealed as seven crews simultaneously came upon the warehouse, engaging with each other and an automatic defense grid which was suspiciously advanced for what was supposed to be a simple job. Against his better judgement, he and his fellows continued to advance into the warehouse...only to run into the other sole surviving crew, which were actual hardened, trained professionals at This Sort of Thing. His gang was wiped out, Frederick ran like hell.%r%r Except that in his haste, he had grabbed the nearest box he could find: in it was a suit of body armor that looked entirely too advanced to be just laying around. His original plan was to sell it, or barring that just rid himself of the thing. Bad things happened to people who kept this stuff lying around, and already Frederick was hearing things. About bounties on his head, both from Intergang and whomever had owned the warehouse. Wishing to keep his family out of trouble...he actually put on the body armor, made a scene, and generally went out of his way to have anyone who might take a shot at him follow him out of Metropolis. After that, he layed low, relying on his trademark ability to be forgotten to slink amongst the poorer neighborhoods of any city he stepped into. Gotham, New York, these were perfect places. Here a person, even with the tech Frederick was lugging around %(And still couldn't sell), could disappear. Unfortunately for him, Frederick grew a conscience while on the lamb, and growing curiosity about what he had stolen lead him to explore, and to tinker. It was called AIDOS, an advanced personal armor designed to provide protection, dynamic camouflage, and offered a suite of weapons and tools for the needs of the user...and a great deal of moddability. Frederick, being just technical enough to know he was out of his league, decided to wait until he found someone with greater technical chops to see what the upper limits of this customization was. He decided to disable some of the heavier and outright scary looking tools, restricting it largely to a camouflage and non-lethal weaponry role. It was in one of these tests that he foiled his first mugging. Even with the AIDOS and his neophyte criminal/combat skills, it was difficult, but he managed to succeed. Then, he vanished just as quickly from the bystanders eyes. Something else changed in him when he stopped that mugging. He felt like strong. No, scratch that, he WAS strong. He had knockout gas. He had concussive weaponry. He could pick locks and see in the dark and he could disappear! When Frederick wore the AIDOS, with its faceplate hiding his identity, and the options he would never have had as a normal hood, he felt brave. Taking great pains to conceal his identity, and often to try and make his work appear the beneficence of a more famous %(And in Frederick's mind%) more capable vigilante. Sometimes he even tried to help out with bigger threats, but for now he prowls the streets, trying to avoid too much attention and helping where he can. The few people who actually care about such things have labeled him Dragnet. His increasing reputation is a concern, but he can't stop. For once he was doing something good for other people, and the AIDOS picked up where his own lack of supernal training or natural abilities lacked. Being a vigilante was hard, but it was the first thing he felt...good at. It felt nice. }} Category:CharacterCategory:OCCategory:Anti-HeroCategory:Unregistered